


I Know You're Here

by tamatojam



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Antarctic Anarchists, Antarctic Empire, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Twitch Chat is canon, Wilbur is only mentioned, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamatojam/pseuds/tamatojam
Summary: Philza wakes up in the middle of the night. There's someone in the house.
Relationships: Family dynamics - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 995





	I Know You're Here

Phil wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. They’re quiet - almost so quiet that he brushes it off as the house settling and goes back to sleep - but then he can hear a cabinet being opened and yep, someone’s down there. He gets out of the makeshift bed that him and Techno have made out of cushions and animal pelts on the floor, trying his best not to disturb his still sleeping son. 

Climbing down the ladder in the dark of the night isn’t the easiest feat, but he manages to do it without falling on his ass, so he counts it as a win. Phil rubs some sleep out of his eyes with a yawn, and then surveys the room. Nothing seems to be out of place at first, except its quiet. Blisteringly quiet, to the point where he can hear the ever constant ringing and the faint whispers of the voices that so often plague him and Techno.

_He’s here- Someone’s here- Look behind you-! Who is it-? Killza- Kill him- 7777- Kill- We demand blood- Red rum- Who is here-? Someone’s in your house, dad-_

Phil blinks the thoughts away and looks out over the room again. There's a full moon tonight, and the entire house is awash with blue light. It’s little things that he notices; the snack cupboard isn’t closed all the way, the blanket is missing from the back of the couch, someone’s been touching the old Antarctic Empire flag, the fabric hanging slightly wrinkled from its spot on the wall. And out of the corner of his left eye, there’s a shift of a shadow in the dark corner of the room. 

It takes a lot of willpower to not look directly at it. Instead, Phil heads to the window that sits over the sink, where jars of milk are perched in what will probably be a flowerbox when spring comes. Phil cracks the window open and retrieves a jar from the snow, letting a cold breeze ruffle his hair. “I know you’re here,” he says quietly.

There’s no response. He honestly would have been more surprised if Tommy _did_ say something. But there’s a noticeable shift in the energy of the room, and anxiety starts bleeding into the air as Phil calmly pours the milk into a kettle. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, and uses a flint and steel to light the coals within the furnace. He sets the kettle on top, watching it closely so the milk doesn’t scorch. “Techno’s still asleep. God knows he needs it.”

(Upstairs, Techno’s eyebrows knit together and he pulls the polar bear fur a little more snugly to his chest. His ear twitch with the effort to hear the conversation. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t fall back asleep.)

Phil pulls out two mugs from one of the many shelves on the wall. They’re both a nice painted blue clay, apparently housewarming gifts from the nearby village kids. He also finds Techno’s chocolate stash, and starts breaking one of the bars into small pieces, dividing them evenly among the mugs. “I’m not gonna tell him that you're here.”

There’s a quiet exhale of relief that gets cut off short, like it wasn't meant to be audible. Phil pretends like he didn't hear. For a moment the anxiety fades, but then comes back even stronger than before when Phil continues with, “But I know you’ve been stealing.”

_Just kill him- He’s the thief-? What the fuck- Killza- Blood for the blood king- Dadza is pissed- Ayo he’s fuckin’ dead guys- F for Tommy-_

“I’m taking the fall for you on a lot of stuff. Like seriously, do you know how hard it is to come up with an excuse for supposedly needing three stacks of pearls? Honest to god, it doesn’t matter if I tell Techno or not. He probably already knows you’re here.”

It’s probably his tired mind playing tricks on him, but there’s a nearly audible hum coming from the shadowy corner. Like the depths of the Nether are trying to scream out of the shadow figure’s soul. The milk starts to bubble and Phil quickly removes it from the heat.

He falls quiet as he adds the milk to the mugs and stirs each one with a spoon until the chocolate melts completely. The hum is still there, pulsating like a heart beat. Phil needs to get more sleep. His mind hasn't been the same since- 

Since Wilbur. 

He sets the spoon down and leans against the counter for support, the hollowness in his heart making it difficult to breathe. The hellish hum from the corner subsides a little, as if it knows what he’s thinking about. “I don’t know what happened, and I’m not going to pretend like I know what you’re going through.”

_Why won’t you just kill hi- Please don’t kill him- He needs help- Dream’s been- Destroys his things- Ghostbur hasn’t- Have you seen Ghost- He misses Tubbo- The fucking compass- We’re so scared for him- He needs you- Please-_

“I don’t know why you steal. I don’t know why you hate us.” That’s a lie. He has every right to hate Phil. There’s still blood on his hands. Phil took his brother away. Tommy has _every_ right to hate him. But Techno’s never done anything but try to help. That much is true. “And I don’t know why you won’t just _fucking ask_.”

The deep hum stops completely, and the suffocating silence is back. Philza sips at his cocoa and burns his tongue. The pain barely registers. “Techno might not help you but- but I would. I _will_. If you just asked. I might not be the happiest after all your stealing, sure, but you’re not alone, Tommy.”

The shadows don’t speak. Phil wonders if there really isn’t anyone there at all. He can’t quite remember what he was trying to achieve through this conversation in the first place. Tommy obviously doesn’t want help. He wants to steal, and argue, and be a nuisance, and it’s not Phil’s fault that he’s to stubborn to change his mind. 

That doesn’t mean he can’t try, though.

“The villagers said they saw you the other day. Are you really still wearing your clothes from autumn?”

A muffled intake of breath. Yep.

_He's a mess- His hair is so long- Missing a fuckin' shoe- Torn shirt- He's gotten hurt- A few explosions burned-_

“If you think it’s cold now, then you’re gonna be in for an awful time once January comes,” Phil hesitates, and then- “There’s more blankets and furs in the bottom drawer of that big wardrobe.”

He keeps his back resolutely turned to the room. For the first time in this entirely one sided conversation, Phil can hear something that’s actually real. Footsteps pad gently across the wooden floors, and he can hear the quiet opening of a drawer and the soft shuffle of fabric being moved about. More footsteps. “You back in the corner?” Phil asks.

Two quiet taps on the wall. One of their old codes for “ _Yes_.”

Phil turns around. The room still looks as empty as ever. Maybe Tommy took one of their invisibility potions. Wouldn’t be too far fetched considering the amount of other things he’s stolen lately. 

He finishes his cocoa and sets the mug in the sink. He’ll wash it in the morning. “I have something for you. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want, but I think you’ll like it.” Phil walks over to the Ender Chest and opens it, digging around the contents for a minute before his hands find the soft bundle of fabric in the darkness. He pulls it out gently, and walks back over to the kitchen table. 

“This is Wilbur’s old uniform from the Empire. You’ve grown quite a bit since then, so it should fit you by now. Everything’s insulated well enough to not need a coat or anything. You’re welcome to take it, if you want,” Phil swallows the lump in his throat away. “But please don’t destroy any of it if you don’t. It’s- It’s one of the only things I have left of Will.”

The room is silent. Not even the voices in his head say anything, except for the occasional sorrow filled sigh. Phil sets the uniform down on the table, and then retrieves the second mug of cocoa to put next to it. 

He moves back over to the ladder, and then has a final thought. “You’re welcome to join us for breakfast. You know the drill, Techno’s making potatoes.”

There’s a singular muffled laugh. Phil counts that as a win, too, and goes upstairs. 

The room is so warm that it makes him almost dizzy. The fireplace is still lit, the wood nearly all turned to ash by now. Phil puts a few extra logs in the hearth before returning to the pile of fur and quilts. Techno has rolled over and his eyes are pressed firmly shut, like he’d been forcing them to stay closed. Phil lays down next to him and cards a gently hand over his hair. Techno’s face softens considerably and Phil lets himself drift back into a dreamless sleep. 

Phil wakes up the next morning with the sun in his eyes and someone's hand pressed against his face. He lightly bats it away, and Techno mumbles out something incoherent before turning to be face down on the bed. Phil looks at him for a moment and wonders how he doesn’t suffocate like that. He has the absolute _strangest_ kids. 

Techno's pink hair is an absolute mess, too, and he can only assume that his own blond looks the same. He definitely won’t let Phil try to comb it until after breakfast, and they have so many thing to get done today, so Phil shakes his son’s shoulder despite wanting to let him sleep. Techno sits up and glares and suddenly Phil is laughing because, holy shit, it’s like a little angry cat. “Oh, sorry to wake you, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Bruh,” Techno mumbles, blindly reaching around for his glasses. Phil hands them to him, and his oldest child nods in a thanks. 

“C’mon!” Phil does his best to pull him upright. He swears to god that Techno ragdolls at some point. These stupid fucking kids. “Up, up, up. Or no breakfast.”

“I’ll eat snow if I have to,” Techno threatens. “Five more minutes.”

It’s safe to say that Phil doesn’t give him five more minutes. They both climb down the ladder, a certain pink-haired hybrid muttering about how stupid it is to wake up early on a Saturday, and make their way to the kitchen. 

Phil remembers what happened hours before like a smack to the face when he sees the downstairs. Nothing looks that out of place, except for the still-wrinkled flag that hangs on the far wall. And there’s two other things. One, the other mug has joined Phil’s in the sink, but both have been washed out and are turned upside down to drip dry. And two, the old uniform is gone from the table. Phil’s heart might just burst out of his ribcage.

He sets a third place at the table while Techno fries up hash-browns in a skillet. His eldest son raises an eyebrow at him, but Phil just waves it off with the excuse that Ghostbur might visit. 

Tommy doesn’t show up for breakfast. It’s not unexpected, so Phil doesn’t feel that upset about it. 

While they eat, Phil looks out the window and sees someone clad in a certain blue uniform walking up a large, snowy hill. He bites the inside of his lip to keep a smile from appearing on his face, and tuned back into the story that Techno’s telling him. When they get home from their adventures that day, there’s a new stack of ender pearls in a chest that neither Phil or Techno take ownership for. That night, Phil hears someone downstairs, stirring what smells like leftover potatoes and some eggs on the stove.

It’s not a lot. But maybe it’s progress. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! My twitter is @ tamatojam, I post both lots of art there :D


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